No Good
by Asshatry
Summary: She is Negan's former wife, and regrets leaving him. After turning to alcohol and Simon for comfort, she decides to visit Negan late one night. (SMUT/ANGST)
1. Part 1

I used to be Negan's wife.

The man had an entire harem inside of his large factory, where he could fuck any of his wives, any time he wanted. It was a reality I had lived for a long time, one I had agreed to because my father had become very sick and needed medication. Most of us agreed to be with him for special treatment, but after my father died, it wasn't about favors any longer. I had fallen hard for him. Perhaps it was the sex, or maybe I was losing my mind, but Negan became my only priority, day after day.

Thing was, I wasn't _his_ main priority.

I had to share him with the other women. Some nights, after he would finish with me, he'd ask me to send another one of the girls to his room—as if I hadn't been good enough for him.

And it hurt.

It hurt when he asked the young, eighteen-year-old newcomer to be his new pet. It hurt to hear her bragging about how she spent the night with him—how he would pepper her in kisses right in front of us—how he called her his favorite.

And then he stopped calling for me all together.

So I left him.

There were no rules saying I had to stay. There was nothing stopping me from walking away. I thought he would fight me on it—I wanted him to. I wanted him to beg me not to leave him, or to at least show some sort of sign that he didn't want me to go. Instead, he set me up with my own room, my own job, and new clothes because as he said I, " _wouldn't be needing that sexy dress anymore_."

I became a normal member of the community again, but things didn't feel normal. I felt alone, and Negan would ignore me any time he was near. The man I had been so intimate with, that I had shared the most private sides of myself, acted like I was a nobody.

I befriended very few people at the Sanctuary, but over time I grew close with Simon, Negan's right-hand man. My relationship with Simon was purely platonic; he would drink with me and bullshit. He'd tell me about his day, and what it was like taking care of all of Negan's dirty work. I know it was wrong of me to do, but I think I enjoyed hearing him talk about Negan. It was the closest I could get to being back in his life.

I also turned to alcohol to try and make myself feel numb. The Sanctuary had a well stocked bar, and every night I became so shit-faced, I was lucky if I even made it back to my room. There were many mornings where I would wake up slumped up against the counter, with a bottle in my lap.

Tonight had been no exception. I was in the bar, downing shots, when Simon came in. He put his hand on my back and rubbed it for a long time, and I wanted so badly to just feel something. Before I knew what was happening, he led me to his bedroom, and we fucked for the first time. Simon was sweet, but the sex was sloppy, and I faked an orgasm to shorten the duration. He fell asleep after kissing me softly. I laid awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering why I still felt so alone.

I crept out of his bed and went back to the bar. I pulled up one of the stools and poured myself a shot. It was late, and I figured everyone would be in bed. I didn't hear someone come into the room and pull up a stool right next to me. When I looked up from the shot glass, I saw a familiar leather jacket. My heart dropped, and I looked away quickly, not wanting to give him any attention.

We sat together in silence for a long time, neither of us saying anything. I knew he was staring at me, probably assessing the mess I had turned into. I shivered at his gravely voice when he finally addressed me.

"How are things?" Negan asked.

"I'm fine," I lied. I didn't sound very convincing. I had just fucked his friend, and I felt like he could see right through me.

He let out a dry chuckle and reached over to grab the bottle of rum that was in front of me. His arm brushed up against mine, and I shivered at the contact. If he noticed, he didn't say anything. I watched as he poured us each a shot, and I stared at the dark liquid filling up each tiny glass. He picked up his, but didn't drink it right away. Silence grew between us once again, and I wanted to get up and leave. I had thought that if he talked to me, I would feel good again, but this was somehow worse.

I started to get off the stool, when Negan's voice made me freeze in my tracks.

"You've been spending a lot of time with Simon lately." I finally turned to look at him. He was gazing into my eyes with a serious expression. "Did you see him today?"

It was a simple question, but a loaded one. He spoke so nonchalantly, but his expression was cold and emotionless. I couldn't speak. I didn't know what to say to him. He leaned over so his head was close to mine, and he breathed against my ear.

"Did you fuck him good?"

I knew my cheeks were turning red, and I looked away. Did he know? He couldn't possibly know. I felt so embarrassed as he mentioned what I had literally just finished doing. He chuckled darkly, and downed the shot of rum. He set the shot glass on top of the bar, and got up from the stool. My stomach churned as he started to walk away, and my mouth formed words that I hadn't fully thought out.

"Maybe I did," I replied. I could hear the venom in my voice as I fired back at him. I was too drunk to have seen it coming, but in one fast moment, Negan was right up by me. He grabbed my chin in his hand roughly—the way he used to grab me when we were alone together, and he would smash his mouth onto mine. I missed the taste of him on my tongue.

He leaned close, as if he was going to kiss me, just like before. Instead, his hazel eyes bore into mine and seemed to be trying to read me.

 _He didn't know._

He didn't know if I had really been with Simon, and was trying to determine if I had. We were both trying to figure the other out. I could see it in his eyes—not knowing if I had been with Simon or not was bothering him.

"I hope it's worth it," he whispered low.

I gulped as he gazed into my eyes for a few more moments, and then he let me go. I hung my head as he walked out of the room.

I knew he wouldn't hear me, but I whispered back, "It's not."

I watched the door, hoping he would come back, but he didn't. I couldn't get my mind off him, and my foolish attempt at making him jealous hadn't worked. He didn't need me. He had all his other wives. He was probably on his way to go fuck one right then. I stood up from the stool, but then grabbed the bottle of rum and slid down against the bar with my back against the counter. I felt terrible, and I did it to myself.

It was like I was losing my mind. I was addicted to him, and this was the withdrawal. I had tried to quit him—tried to replace him, and no one was allowing me to reach that same, sweet high he granted. I tried to cheat the system—to cheat his rules, and in the end, I cheated myself. No matter what I did, I knew I would be miserable as long as I was without him.

I stood up from the floor, feeling dizzy as the alcohol swam in my veins. I felt warm and determined as I stumbled down the hall and to a room I had spent plenty of time in. I knocked on the door loudly, as my head pulsed. I knew I was drunk, but I still felt like I was somehow in control of things—that I could fix it and make it better again.

Negan answered the door wearing nothing but his boxers. I bit my lip as I drank him in, and gaped at him. He let out a sigh and looked me over. He didn't look surprised to see me. He probably had expected this, but I didn't care how pathetic I looked.

He stepped out of my way and I walked into his room a few steps, and then spun around to face him. He was sleepy, and leaned a hand onto his couch. He looked annoyed, and I felt a pang of regret coming to him, but knew I need to at least try and talk to him.

"I'm sorry," I blurted out. The words flooded out, "I left because I was so sick of being ignored. I felt like you didn't really give a shit about me, and I thought maybe… just maybe if I left, you would fight for me. But you didn't…"

I should have stopped there, but I couldn't. This confession was spilling out of me, and there was no stopping it.

"I didn't intend to fall in love with you. I didn't think I could fall in love with someone like you, but I did. And I miss you, Negan. I want to come back. I want to belong to you again."

I bit my lip and looked at him, silently begging him to say something. He just stood there and continued to stare, seemingly unfazed by my words. My stomach turned, and I realized I had just laid all my cards on the table. His face was unreadable.

"Say something!" I raised my voice and balled my hands into fists as I gave him a look of desperation. It was the middle of the night, and I shouldn't have been shouting, but the mixture of alcohol and my frustration led to my outburst.

And it was my eruption that had him closing the distance between us. He walked right up to me, but didn't touch me. Instead he leaned close, his eyes never leaving mine, and he took a breath before speaking.

"You want to apologize for leaving me?"

I nodded slowly, feeling my heartbeat increase at the idea of being his once more.

"Get on your knees and show me just how sorry you really are."

There was something in his command—his dominance, that dripped off each word he had said. It ignited the fire inside me that I was craving so badly. Knowing he still wanted me, had me chasing the glorious high. I knew it would be a fleeting moment, but a blissful one.

I sank down onto my knees before him, and he stared down at me; his eyes were like daggers. It wasn't like before, when I was his wife—he had always been laid back in the bedroom. He would crack jokes and smile. But this time, as I reached the ground and looked up at him, there was a serious look on his face as he stared down at me. It gave me butterflies; I felt like I was being interviewed for a position, and I would do anything to get the job.

I reached up and touched the front of his legs, placing my palms on his sturdy thighs. He was warm, and I wanted to embrace his heat. My fingers slid up to the hem of his boxers, and I pulled them down until they hit the floor. He was half hard, and as I grasped him into my hand, my eyes went upwards towards his. He was still looking at me sternly. Perhaps he thought I was pathetic—his drunken ex had stumbled into his room in the middle of the night, looking for redemption. Maybe he pitied me. It didn't matter. He was my favorite brand of heroin, and it was time to shoot up.

I stroked him slowly, without looking away from him. My small hand fondled him, and I felt him become harder against my palm. Once he was fully erect, I opened my mouth, and leaned forward, sticking out my tongue and licking his thick member.

I expected him to hiss out—to shudder—to groan like he used to. Instead, he was stiff and unmoving. His unfaltering gaze locked onto mine as I took him into my mouth. My darkened lips wrapped around every inch, and I felt a line of saliva roll down my mouth as I moved him further inside. I was going slow, but I knew what he liked. I hollowed my cheeks and began a steady pace, sliding him in and out of my mouth.

I had been here more times than I could count—on my knees, accepting him. But this was different. This was me, begging for his forgiveness. As I spelled out my apology with my tongue against the tender skin of his shaft, I couldn't look away from that stone cold gaze that peered down at me.

 _Why was he looking at me like that?_

My head bobbed up and down a few times, and then I felt his hand come up to the back of my head. He grasped my hair in between his fingers, and I smiled around him as he finally touched me. The happy moment was fleeting—before I knew it, he was forcing me further onto his dick, and I gasped out around it, trying to catch my breath as he entered into my throat.

I began to choke, but he didn't let go, and continued to force himself forward within my mouth. I felt tears build up from the burning pain as my lungs desperately tried to find air. He held himself inside, staring down at me as I sputtered around his shaft. When he finally let me go, I pulled my head back so my mouth left his member, and I took a deep breath.

"What's wrong, babe?" his voice was cold, and had a definite edge to it, "Too much for you?"

His words should have been lighthearted; they should have been accompanied by a smirk or a chuckle, but they weren't. He still seemed so disgusted—so fed up with me. And it was starting to piss me off. I squinted up at him, trying to read him. I didn't know what he was playing at, but I wasn't about to give in.

I slid my mouth back onto him and took his cock even further in than before, relaxing my throat as he returned to grabbing the back of my head. I began to bob my head again, but he gripped me tightly and started to force my head at his own pace—a pace that was rough and fast. He fucked my mouth relentlessly, and I slowly started to realize what this was…

This wasn't an apology.

 _This was a punishment._

His cock popped out of my mouth, and I stared down at the floor, suddenly feeling dirty and used. I wasn't his wife anymore. I felt like his whore.

His grip on my hair tightened, and he tugged me upwards, causing a jolt of pain to course through me from the top of my head. I rose to my feet, unsure what was going to happen next. I felt a slight pang of panic as he grabbed my pants and pulled them down to my ankles. As I stepped out of them, he pulled my panties down too, and I shivered as the cold air licked at my exposed skin.

Suddenly, I was shoved back up against his bedroom door. I felt the wind get knocked out of me, and he pressed his body hard against mine. He wasted no time in lining himself up at my entrance, as I leaned against the wooden frame. As soon as he entered me, I cried out, wrapping my arms around his neck as he pressed in with a hard, deep thrust.

Just as he had with my mouth, he pounded in and out of me with a harsh pace. I felt my nails dig into his bare skin, which only seemed to egg him on. It hurt, but it was a sweet pain. Wasn't this what I had been craving? I could already feel that aching pain within me starting to build deeper and hotter, and I knew he would bring me over the edge.

 _So why did this feel so fucking wrong?_

He didn't make a sound—didn't kiss me—didn't encourage me like he had used to. He just continued to thrust in and out, like he had something to prove. Maybe we both did.

I wrapped my leg around his hip, and as my body propped up against him more, he slid even further inside my aching core. I started to pant and felt like I was going to lose my balance, just as I felt my orgasm grow. I wanted him to say something—to whisper sweet nothings like he always did, but the only sounds that filled the room was my little moans and the sound of our flesh slapping together.

I had wanted this. I had come here for this. As I reached that desired edge, I squeezed his shoulders tightly as my cunt clenched around him, and he didn't let up. My eyes watered as I found my high, and I trembled around him. My leg shakily reached the floor, and he pulled out and released himself onto my leg. I leaned against the door, closed my eyes, and tried to catch my breath. It had been weeks since I had felt so good, but as the effects of my orgasm started to fade, I began to feel sick. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the rough fuck session, but I felt like I needed to lay down.

When I opened my eyes again, Negan was coming out of his bathroom with a towel. He threw it at me, and I caught it into my hands, and wiped his release from my leg. He had already pulled his boxers back on and was watching me closely as I cleaned myself up.

"You need to leave."

His voice took me by surprise as he finally spoke, and I looked up at him from where I was still leaning against his door. I hadn't expected him to ask me to spend the night, but I had come here with an agenda.

"Am I a wife again?" the question sounded funny. I felt like I was at the end of an audition, not asking to be someone's spouse. He stared at me a long time—that same serious expression still on his face, and it made my heart drop. I knew his answer before he said it.

"I'm not taking you back," he said simply.

I don't know what I had expected. I had thought that maybe if I came to him and proved myself, he would forgive me. I had thought there was something between us.

I thought maybe—just maybe—I was something he needed, the way I needed him.

But he didn't need me.

I looked away and off to the side, trying to figure out what to say to him. I felt so hurt, but I should have expected this from him. Negan wasn't with his wives because he loved them, he used us for his own pleasure.

The same way I had come here, intending to use him for mine.

He waited for me to speak, or perhaps to leave. When I didn't move he let out a sigh.

"You need to go sleep off that shit," he reminded me, in a softer voice. I could hear pity in his words, and I finally looked up at him. I was angry, and I wanted to hurt him back the way he was hurting me.

"I fucked Simon."

I waited for the words to hit him, and wanted him to become enraged. I wanted him to yell—to freak out at me over my betrayal.

Instead, he just nodded.

"I know. I saw you go into his room."

My mouth opened, but I didn't know what to say. He had known the whole time. It was why he had been looking at me like I had disappointed him—because I had. He let me come to him and make an absolute ass of myself.

I felt used, humiliated, and stupid. I became choked up as I leaned over and grabbed my panties and pants and pulled them on in a hurry. I desperately needed to get out of his room. Negan continued to watch me, but he didn't seem amused about knowing what I had done. He seemed sad, and for the first time that night I realized that hardened look on his face wasn't disgust.

He was hurt.

I was hurting too, worse than I had been before I came to him. I swallowed the building tears and took a deep breath.

"He's better than you ever were." The lie slipped out easy, but I could hear the doubt in my harsh statement. I wanted him to show any sign of emotion, other than the stoic look he was currently giving me. I wanted any kind of a reaction.

He shrugged.

"Good for you, sweetheart."

His indifference hurt the most, like a knife twisting inside an already gaping wound. I turned from him and went to the door, just as I felt some tears start to roll down my face. I would have given anything for him to call me back, but I exited because we both had nothing else to say.

 _Good for me?_

Nothing about this felt good, or right. I stopped being Negan's wife because I felt awful about being a side piece. I fucked Simon because I wanted Negan to get jealous—to get angry—to feel _anything_ about me. Instead, he had played me like a fiddle. I knew he was bad for me and I should hate him, but I hated myself more than anything. I felt like an addict. Even after all that, I still fucking needed him.

Instead of returning to my room, I went back into the bar where I had left the bottle of rum on the floor, and I picked it up and clutched it in my hands. Seeing him act like he didn't care about me made me feel empty, and I didn't want to feel that way anymore. I took a long swing straight from the bottle, and coughed around the taste.

I had no one else to blame but myself, and I didn't want anyone's pity.

I just wanted him.


	2. Part 2

I needed to move on from Negan.

I avoided him over the next few days and tried to focus on myself. No more drinks, no more excuses. I had allowed myself to fall into a rut, and I decided to pick myself up.

I apologized to Simon and explained I just wanted to be friends. He understood, and was very nice about the whole thing. I was grateful for him.

And I decided that because I'd been spending so much time drowning my sorrows in liquor, that I could use that recent passion to make myself useful. I cleaned up one of the lounge rooms that had an old bar, and I set out to become the Sanctuary's bartender. I talked to Simon about my idea and he loved it. He brought me multiple different bottles, and told me it was free of charge. He suggested I make people pay for drinks with points so that I could make some, now that I was no longer a wife.

So I did.

And it was a huge success.

It had only been a day, but all sorts of community members and Saviors stopped by to see the new setup and ordered their drinks. They sat together and visited while I organized the shelves and cleaned up the area better. By the end of the day, I had made more points than most people made in a week, and I was very proud of myself.

I was wiping down the bar and getting ready to retire for the night when I heard someone come in. I looked up to see Wendy, Negan's eighteen-year-old wife make her way over to the counter where I was standing. She sat down at a stool right in front of me. I bit my tongue and swallowed the urge to glare at her. It wasn't her fault I had left Negan, but she had been a playing factor into it.

"Can I get a drink?" she asked in a quiet voice. I peered at her, and wondered if I should tell her to fuck off. Part of me absolutely hated this girl, but there was something in her demeanor that said I needed to wait before I brought the claws out. She was underage, but it wasn't like we lived under government law anymore. The only rules that mattered were Negan's, and he had never said anything about not being able to serve his wives alcohol.

"What do you want?" I asked, turning to look at my small collection of liquor. There wasn't much left, but I still had a few bottles of vodka and whiskey left.

"I don't know. I've never had anything before," she confessed. I glanced over my shoulder at her and then turned to look back at my bottles. The rum I had been downing only days before was sitting towards the bottom, and I bent down to pick it up. I opened a little cooler that Simon had provided me and scooped out some ice, and then grabbed a can of Coca-Cola from another shelf.

As I prepared her drink, I glanced up quickly to see she was fidgeting in her seat. It only took me a few seconds, and then her drink was ready. I set it down in front of her, and she picked it up slowly and took a sip.

"Not bad," she mumbled, and then took a longer drink. I watched her silently. I had been planning on going back to my room to sleep, but I could tell something was wrong with her. It wasn't my place to ask, and I didn't want to get involved with her personal affairs.

"You were a wife, right?" she asked, breaking the silence. I had a glass in my hand and was cleaning it with a rag.

"Yes," I answered, not looking up from the glass. _She knew I had been._ We hadn't talked much when I was still with Negan, but she had spent countless hours inside the parlor room with me. I really wished she would just down her drink and leave, but I had a feeling she wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon.

"How did you leave?" she blurted, setting her drink down and watching me. I set the glass on the little shelf behind me and turned back to face her.

"I just did. He's not forcing you to be with him." I was becoming increasingly annoyed that she had come to me of all people to talk about this. Could I blame her though? None of his other wives had ever left him. I was the first of my kind.

She nodded and then let out a long sigh. While her eyes were averted, I glanced down at her little black dress and perfectly curled blonde hair. She looked like a doll, and I remembered what it was like—spending the day doing my hair and makeup to look my best for Negan. A few days ago I would have given anything to be back in her boat. Now swimming didn't sound so bad.

"I miss my boyfriend," she announced suddenly. "I really wish I had never said yes to Negan, but I didn't want to work for points."

"If you want to be with your boyfriend, you shouldn't be with Negan," I pointed out, while wiping the rag across the counter.

"I know. I'm just scared Negan will get mad at me." Wendy was staring down at the little round glass and holding her head in her hands. I hadn't realized how distraught she was until right then, but as I did, I started to pity her. I had been there—kinda. I had felt trapped when I was with him, and so I had left. Unlike Wendy, I didn't have a young boyfriend waiting for me once I got out. I had booze, and awkward sex with Simon.

"Of course he's not gonna like it, but he can get happy in the same pants he got mad in," I said, trying to reassure her. She looked up at me with confused eyes and I smiled at her.

"He won't hurt you. It will be okay."

Wendy stared at me for a long time as if she was trying to read my expression. I was being genuine, and after a while, she smiled back at me and nodded.

"You're right. I'm gonna go talk to him now. Thank you." She stood up from the stool and left the room. I reached over to take her drink, which she had barely touched, and downed it. I hoped the advice I gave her was good. Yes I had left Negan, but I had ended up regretting it.

I headed back to my bedroom for the night and changed into a pretty black nightgown that Negan had given me when I was his wife. He had allowed me to take it when I left, and I was grateful because it had always been one of my favorites. As I sat on the edge of my bed, I looked over the little notebook where I had tracked the points I had made for the day. As I checked the inventory and marked down the bit of rum I gave Wendy (and myself), I realized that I was going to bed sober for the first time in weeks. Sure I had downed her drink, but I hadn't even put a full shot of rum into it. I was coherent, and it felt good.

My head was just about to hit the pillow when my bedroom door flew open. I sat up just as Negan stormed in and slammed the door shut behind him. He looked furious.

"I bet you think you're so fucking clever," he growled, standing across the room with his fists clenched.

"What?" I asked, scrunching my face in confusion. He was fuming. If looks could kill, I would have been dead.

"Wendy left. Doesn't want to be my wife anymore. She said she talked to you, and you fucking convinced her to leave me."

I opened my mouth to speak, but couldn't find any words. What he was saying sounded so harsh, but there was truth to it. I had convinced Wendy to leave him, but not for the reason he thought.

"Are you gonna fucking say something?" he yelled, taking a step toward me. His anger was apparent, and it pissed me off. He had no right to barge into my room and throw a fit at me. So I decided to push him even further.

A smile slowly formed on my face.

"Awwww, you lost your favorite play thing!" I taunted.

His eyes turned to fire, and he scowled at me; I could see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to come up with something to say. I continued to grin at him. For the first time since I had known him, I felt like I had the upper hand.

"I liked you better when you were a fucked up, drunken mess, begging to suck my cock." He slowly began walking up to me, in an attempt to intimidate me. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat up to show I wasn't afraid of him.

"Just because Wendy wants to fuck someone younger doesn't mean you need to take this out on me."

"No one fucks better than me," he said in a low voice as he reached the edge of the bed. He towered over me, and I smirked up at him.

"Simon did."

Negan leaned down so his face was parallel with mine. We remained close and un-touching for a few solid seconds as he gazed into my eyes. My heart was pounding loud in my ears, and I felt him press against my leg. He was hard. I could only imagine he had probably expected to be dick deep inside of Wendy right about then, and instead he was now down another wife.

And yet, he came to me.

"Then I have something to prove, don't I?" he snarled.

Suddenly, he grabbed my jaw and his mouth came crashing down onto mine. His kiss was rough, and his tongue slipped inside and found mine. His hand on my jaw brought me forward, deepening our kiss, and I gasped against his mouth.

When he finally broke away, I took a deep breath as his mouth trailed down to my neck. He began to nip at my skin, and then his hand began to slide under my nightgown. He cupped my mound, making me tremble as his warm fingers began to slip past my lower lips and into my heat. I squirmed at the feeling, and he placed his other hand onto my chest and forced me to lay back on the bed. I watched as he pulled his jacket off, and then he joined me on the bed.

"Negan…" I started to say, but didn't know if I wanted to tell him to stop or beg him to keep going. I knew we shouldn't be doing this—that we were both making a huge mistake, but I didn't care. I wanted him so fucking bad, and knowing he wanted me just as much was ecstasy.

"Shut up," he growled just as his mouth found mine again. His kiss was even rougher, and I cried out against his lips just as he entered a second finger inside me. I was starting to get wet, and he smirked as my arousal began to coat his fingers. He continued to kiss me passionately, and then his lips left mine. His fingers retreated from my core, and he gently bit my bottom lip as he sat up. I stared up in amazement as he pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it onto the floor of my room. He unbuckled his belt and slid it out of the belt loops before joining me on the mattress again, with the belt still in his hand. I sat up to kiss him, but then my eyes went wide.

He had placed the belt around my neck; the thick leather strip was resting around my throat.

And then he tightened it.

It was a makeshift collar—and it hurt, but not enough to kill the mood. I stared up at him with big eyes, knowing that I was completely at his mercy.

"You want to act like a bitch?" he asked, yanking the collar a bit so I moved closer to him. He placed his hand on my chin and tilted my head up to look at him. "Then I'm gonna fuck you like a bitch."

I should have snapped at him for calling me such a horrible thing, but his vulgar words turned me on even more. His mouth met mine once again, and as we tasted one another, I almost forgot the belt was there. Then he tugged on it roughly, and I gasped out.

"Get on your hands and knees," he ordered, standing up from the bed and letting go of the belt. I did as he said, turning around so my ass was facing him. I shivered as I heard the sound of his zipper.

I had thought I was done with him. I was going to move on, but here I was, getting ready to feel him all over again. He really was like a drug—a high I knew I would always end up chasing.

His fingers pinched the bottom of my nightgown and he pulled it up past my hips. I tried to brace for it, but he entered me fast and hard. I cried out, and leaned forward in an attempt to remedy the sudden pain, but he gripped the belt and pulled me harder against him. My back arched up and he slid even further inside me, making me moan loud. I felt tears well up in my eyes as he started to move in and out, but this time it was deep and slow. It was painful, but it was a good pain—the kind of pain I had been yearning for.

Negan panted loudly behind me and held me in that position with the belt for a long time. As the leather tightened around my neck, I knew it would leave a big mark, but I didn't care. It was his mark—his claim on me. I didn't care about anything in that moment.

I was his.

He pumped in roughly, without any sign of slowing down. His grip remained on the belt, and as he continued to pull it tight, I struggled to breathe. I gasped out, reaching out a hand to try and signal that it was too much, but he didn't let up.

The lack of oxygen caused my body to go into a panic, and I felt myself start to slightly jerk beneath him. He had shoved himself in so deep, and my arms gave in from holding myself up on the mattress. I fell forward onto the bed, and my hands went to the leather belt at my neck, desperately clawing at it. Instead of letting go, he pulled me back once again; his dick rammed into me with such force, I jolted forward. He fucked my body as it spasmed, and I desperately tried to find air.

Negan finally loosened his grip on the belt, and I gasped for breath. As I laid against the bed sheets and felt relief, he slid out and stood up behind me. I breathed in and out, grateful for the cool air that filled my lungs. He grabbed my legs and pulled me to the edge of the bed to get better access to my soaked cunt. After getting a few good breaths, his hand returned to the belt.

"Get up," he commanded, and yanked the belt. I slowly got back onto my hands and propped myself up doggy-style again. My arms were shaking, but I did as he said.

 _I'd always do as he said._

He entered back into me with a hard thrust, and I tried to brace myself. With one hand on the belt, he placed the other onto the curve of my ass and pulled me back and forth onto his cock.

Both of us were moaning carelessly. My limbs hurt, and I knew I would be sore the next day, but I didn't care. It was a small price to pay just to be with him—to feel him filling me up.

I could feel that sweet ache start to grow just as he tightened the belt. I was struggling to breathe again just as my walls clenched around him. He let go of the belt and oxygen flooded into my lungs at the same time my orgasm overcame me. I gripped the sheets into my hands as Negan fucked me through my delicious high. A few moments later, his thrusts became sporadic, and then he came deep inside me.

He fell onto the bed next to me where I had collapsed onto my stomach—his belt still wrapped around my neck. I turned my head to look at him, and he was gazing down at me with a mixture of emotions on his face.

I couldn't tell if he hated me or loved me. Our relationship was such a complicated mess, and I knew things still weren't solved between the two of us.

We stayed like that for a long time just staring at one another. I closed my eyes and had almost fell asleep when I felt his lips meet mine in a gentle kiss. I opened my lids to see he was staring down at me with a serious expression.

"You can go get your dress," he mumbled.

 _My dress?_

It took me a few moments to realize he was referring to the one I had worn when I was his wife.

 _He wanted me to be a wife again._

I should have felt euphoric at this, but instead I felt anger start to grow inside of me. He was only here because he had lost Wendy. His ego had been drastically damaged after losing two wives, and he assumed I was guaranteed to come back to him.

I sat up and removed the belt that was still wrapped around my neck, and shook my head at him.

"You need to leave," I said coldly, holding his belt out to him. Those were the same words he had said to me a few days ago, when I had spilled my heart and soul out before him, and he had sent me away after we fucked. He realized this, and climbed off the bed. I watched as he collected his clothes and started getting dressed. I could tell he was irritated with me.

"We can't keep doing this, Negan," I explained, watching him.

He laughed in disbelief as he continued to pull his clothes back on.

"First you cost me my wife-"

"No, you cost yourself that wife," I fired back, sitting up so I was propped up against my pillows. "I didn't tell her to leave you to try and hurt you. I don't even want to be a wife anymore."

Negan didn't even look up as he pulled his shirt back on over his head.

"Of course you don't," he mumbled.

"Women don't just want to be fucked good, Negan. We have other needs to." He was clearly getting annoyed with me, but was trying to pretend like everything was fine. It was far from it. He didn't understand why Wendy left, and he _really_ didn't understand why I had left.

I wanted to make him understand.

"Maybe your wives would actually stay with you if you were a decent husband."

He stopped trying to buckle his belt and looked up at me. Of all the shit I had said to him, THAT seemed to be the one to hit a nerve.

He wasn't glaring at me. He looked upset. It was the same look of hurt in his eyes that I had seen when I had told him I'd been with Simon.

He leaned over and grabbed his jacket and went to leave.

"Negan, wait-" I called out to him, but it was too late. He left my room without another word and shut the door behind him. I remained sitting on the bed and closed my eyes.

I regretted saying that to him.

We were always at each other's throats, but when I had been a wife, he had treated me like a queen, beside him giving attention to the other women. Our relationship had never been this ugly when we were together, but since I had made the decision to leave, things had become messy and complicated.

I turned on my side and let out a sigh.

As I came down from the high, I wondered…

Was Negan as addicted to me as I was to him?


	3. Part 3

I didn't see Negan for weeks. After our last encounter, I had been pretty harsh to him and figured he wouldn't want to see me again. I half expected him to want to kill me, but as the days passed, there was no sign of him.

I continued to run the bar and make points—more points than I knew what to do with. Simon helped me build up my liquor cabinet, and before long, I had more than enough booze to run my business. The Saviors would come in the evening after their shifts and happily buy a few drinks.

Wendy continued to come to the bar every single night. At first our conversations were mostly small talk, but over time, we became very close. The girl I had hated so much soon became my friend. I didn't feel so alone anymore.

In order to keep a clear head, I made sure to stay away from the liquor and to focus on keeping the bar organized and running smoothly. My reputation grew fast, and I was no longer "the wife that left Negan." People saw me for more than that. I was the Sanctuary's bartender, and I embraced my new identity.

 _But I still missed him._

I would stare at the door hoping he would come in and order a drink, but he never did. My mind kept going back to the feeling of his belt around my neck, and the sweet feeling of his lips on my skin. I wanted so badly to dive back in. I was tempted, but I knew that I needed to stay away for both our sakes.

It was late one evening when Wendy came into the bar, and I could tell immediately that something was wrong. She had clearly been crying and looked like she would start again at any second.

"What's wrong?!" I asked concerned.

"I'm pregnant," she announced with a sniffle.

I knew her and her boyfriend had been messing around, but I had thought they were using protection. Out of habit, I went to start making her a drink, but stopped when I remembered her new predicament.

"I don't know what I'm gonna do. I don't make enough points with my cleaning job. I can barely afford to feed myself!" She started to sob and I stared at her sympathetically. I couldn't imagine bringing a child into this world.

"It's gonna be okay, Wendy. I promise," I said, trying my best to reassure her. She wiped at her eyes and shook her head.

"How can you know that?" She looked up at me through her long eyelashes. I smiled a bit at her.

"Just trust me on this. You need to go get some rest and we can figure something out tomorrow, okay?" I reached across the bar and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"No one else knows," she mumbled, turning to go. "Negan is going to be so mad."

"Don't worry about Negan. I'll handle him." I watched her leave the bar and then let out a long breath. I hadn't talked to him in so long, but Wendy was my friend. I needed to figure something out. I had to help her.

I closed the bar early and then headed to Negan's bedroom. I felt more nervous than I had ever felt and knocked on the door. I knew he would probably get pissed off the moment he saw me standing there, but I had to fight the feeling to turn and leave.

The door opened and Negan was standing before me. He had taken off his jacket and was wearing a grey tee shirt and black slacks. He looked exhausted and sighed when he saw me.

"It's late," he said, looking past me and into the hall. He was trying not to look at me.

"I know, but I need to talk to you."

When he didn't move out of the way to let me in his room and continued to stare off into space, I decided to just be upfront and honest with him.

"Wendy is pregnant," I said simply, watching his eyes. He didn't seem surprised, but he looked back at me. He scanned my face, and then he rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, that's what happens when you fuck your boyfriend on the daily." The sarcasm was thick in his voice, and I was already regretting coming to him for help.

"She's scared, Negan," I explained, crossing my arms.

"No shit." He let out a yawn and then went to turn away from me. Before he could tell me off, I continued.

"She's gonna need baby clothes, formula, diapers… Those things aren't cheap at the Sanctuary." I was stalling, trying to figure out exactly what I was about to ask for. I had it mostly figured out, but I suspected I already knew his answer.

"What's your point?" He sounded indifferent.

"I want to transfer my points over to Wendy. I've made enough at the bar that it could really help her."

Negan's eyes narrowed as he stared down at me. I wondered in that moment if he truly hated me. It looked like it. The way he saw it, I had taken away Wendy from him and then I had rejected him too.

"Absolutely not," he said coldly.

"They're my points!" My voice raised and I glared at him. "I can give them away if I want to."

He didn't respond at first and just stared down at me. I remembered what I had said to him, about him not being a good husband to his wives. I wondered how much damage those words had done. I wondered if I had ruined any chance of him helping Wendy by saying that to him.

"Is that all?" he asked in an irritated voice. Disgusted, I nodded while my eyes were still narrowed at him.

"Yeah. Goodnight."

I turned away from him before being dismissed and headed back down the hall. I was mad, but mostly at myself. What was I thinking? He would have never helped us.

* * *

The next night, I was tending the bar and it was completely dead. I was kind of grateful for the silence, and decided to plan out a way to help Wendy and her unborn baby.

I met with her earlier that day and discussed her options. She wanted to keep the baby, but was scared she wouldn't be a good enough mother or have enough supplies. I told her I would do everything in my power to make sure she had everything she needed.

I decided I would get her that stuff myself. Negan might not let me give her my points, but he couldn't stop me from using my points to buy her the things she needed.

I was wiping down the bar and getting ready to close early again when the door opened. I glanced up to tell the person that I was closing when my heart dropped.

Negan strolled over to one of the stools and sat down right in front of me. We both didn't say anything right away; the awkward air felt thick, and I swallowed hard while I stared at the bar counter. I didn't know what to say.

"Can I get a beer?" he asked in a smooth voice. I nodded and turned to get one of the chilled bottles out of a mini fridge when Negan's voice made me freeze in my tracks.

"I've been thinking about what you said. About you giving Wendy your points."

I grabbed the cold bottle from the fridge and popped the top off with a bottle opener, before turning back and placing the bottle in front of him. He was looking directly at me with a hard expression.

"I'm going to help her, whether you let me or not," I announced. I was glad I sounded as confident as I did.

"I fuckin' figured." He took a long swig from the bottle and then set it down. "But I have a better offer for you."

I had no idea where this could possibly be going, but I didn't say anything and waited for him to elaborate.

"I want you to become a wife again. And if you do, I'll treat Wendy as if she was your sister, seeing as you two have gotten so fucking close."

I didn't understand what he was saying at first. It didn't sound right to me, but then I got it: his wives' families got special treatment. The same treatment my sick father had gotten. He took care of his "in-laws" and the loved ones of his wives. He was telling me that he would make sure Wendy got everything she needed, so long as I agreed to be his once again.

"She will get taken care of. Her and the baby." He was trying to convince me, and I stared at him stone faced.

I felt conflicted in the moment.

I had left Negan because I had been so unhappy about having to share him. I had been so jealous of Wendy. He still had other wives, and I knew that jealousy wasn't going to go away.

But I was missing him almost every day.

I cared about Wendy a lot.

I knew I needed to help her.

I nodded.

"Okay," I whispered. If that's what it took to make sure Wendy would be well taken care of, so be it.

I walked around from behind the bar counter and walked up to where he was sitting on the stool. I stuck out my hand, wanting to shake on our little deal.

Negan's hand grasped mine, but instead of shaking, he pulled me forward. I stumbled, but he held me fast and his mouth found mine.

He kissed me hard and his hands trailed down to my hips. In a quick motion, he spun me around and pulled me onto his knee. His hands moved up and cupped my breasts and he nuzzled his face into my neck, breathing hard.

"I missed you. So fucking much." I felt his breath as he spoke, and then felt his hot kisses against my skin.

I had missed him too—I could try and deny it all I wanted, but being with him had become the only thing that truly made me happy. Being a wife had made me miserable. But being with him had made me feel complete.

Knowing I was going to be able to help Wendy and get to please him would make this worth it.

He held me close to him as his hands explored every inch of my body. His mouth continued to trail down my neck, and I whimpered as he began to nibble against a sensitive spot. I was completely at his mercy.

I don't know why it came to mind, but I suddenly remembered once again the comment I had made to him during our last encounter. I had felt terrible for saying it, and knew I had hit a nerve.

"I'm sorry-" I started to apologize when one of his hands suddenly dipped down in front of my pants and his long fingers cupped my soaked cunt. I let out a loan moan, and he flicked a digit against me teasingly.

"Shhhhhh," he said softly, rubbing his fingers against my folds. My knees felt weak, and if I hadn't been sitting on his knee I would have lost my balance, but he held me up.

"No, I need to say this…" I pulled back a bit to look up at him and he sat up to look into my eyes. He pulled his hand away from the front of my pants and I almost regretted opening my mouth in the first place. He was looking at me in full blown lust—like an addict about to get his fix. We both were about to soar, but I wanted to say it before it became too late.

"I'm sorry," I said again, resisting the urge to kiss him as he stared down at me. "Maybe your idea of husband and wife isn't typical, and I don't like having to share, but you weren't a bad husband. You helped me out when my father was sick, and I am very grateful for that. I-"

He didn't let me finish.

His lips met mine once again in a passionate kiss, and I slid my hand up to the back of his head and urged him forward. He stood up, bringing me with him and pressed me up against the bar. His mouth left mine, but lingered and we gazed into one another's eyes.

"Let me show you how good a husband I can be."

The next thing I knew, he was lifting me up so I was sitting on top of the bar. He unzipped my pants and in one brisk motion, he pulled them down along with my underwear. His hand immediately went to my mound, and I let out a long moan. I spread my legs wide, completely exposing myself to him. He stared at my drenched cunt, and I watched as a ravenous expression came over him. His hands gripped my thighs, and he lifted me up even more so I was completely on top of the bar. He moved to position me so I was laying against the entire length of the bar, and I watched as he moved to the end, where my legs were now positioned. He pulled me again, and I let out a gasp as my body slid towards him.

He didn't hesitate; I watched in anticipation as he lowered his face down between my legs and his tongue entered between my slick folds. I let out a whimper as he massaged my bud, and I thrust my hips up into his face. His hands came up and pinned my thighs apart, preventing me from moving too much, but I continued to squirm in pleasure.

I reached a hand up to grip my own hair when my hand bumped the beer bottle that had been sitting on the counter. It toppled to the floor and shattered, making us both pause. I had started to sit up, fully intent on cleaning up the mess, but Negan held me down fast and then went back to eating me out. The sound of the glass breaking only seemed to excite him more, as his tongue fucked me closer to that glorious high.

The pleasure was intoxicating and only seemed to stimulate me even more. I gripped the bar counter tightly as my orgasm hit me, but Negan didn't stop—his tongue continued to lap up my arousal. It was only when I started to come down when his tongue left my folds, and he placed a soft kiss against my sensitive flesh.

I still hadn't completely recovered when he placed his hands on my hips and pulled me off the counter. My shaky legs hit the ground, and he spun me so I was pressed up against the bar. I leaned forward as I heard the sound of his zipper, and in a matter of seconds, he was thrusting inside me.

I cried out as he fucked me against the bar. I had almost been standing, but Negan placed a hand onto the back of my head and forced me completely down, so my face was laying against the bartop. The position was uncomfortable, but the sensation of him filling me up was worth the pain. His hand slid down my stomach and his fingers found my clit where he started to rub, making me writhe beneath him.

"Did Simon fuck you this good?"

His voice sounded distant, and when I didn't answer him right away, I was met with a hard slap against my ass. I cried out, which only made him fuck me harder; his dick was pumping in and out of me so fast, I was seeing stars.

"No," I finally managed, as his hand rubbed against the sore spot on my ass.

"Did you think about me while you were on his cock?" he demanded, leaning over my body and changing the angle of his thrusts. "Did you pretend it was me filling up your aching cunt?"

His words sent me over the edge once again, and I felt my walls clench hard around him. As I milked his cock and another orgasm overwhelmed me, I felt tears fall down my face.

"Yes!" I cried out. "Yes!" I had thought about him. I had wanted to be with him when I went to Simon. Nothing would ever feel as good as Negan.

"Who do you belong to?" he hissed.

"You!" I gasped out.

I had thought I was spent, but that tight coil inside me slowly started to wind up again and I couldn't think—I had never felt so high. Suddenly, I felt his hand grip my neck and he gently started to squeeze. His grip got tighter and tighter against my throat. The sex was always rough, but it was pretty clear that was how we both enjoyed it.

It wasn't long before his thrusts slowed and he came inside me. When he pulled out, I was desperate to reach that third and final peak. I was still pressing myself against the side of the bar, practically humping the counter top. Negan watched me for a few moments, before his hands grabbed my body again and he pulled me up and off the counter. Spinning me around to face him, his fingers went to my dripping folds and found my clit again. He rubbed fast, causing me to moan and whine. Our eyes locked as he finger fucked me.

"You're mine now," he husked. I was so close… ready to fall over that blissful edge…

Negan's mouth went to mine, but instead of kissing me, he took my bottom lip in between his teeth and bit it gently. The sensation sent me toppling over the edge and my back arched as I felt myself squeeze around his hand. I closed my eyes tight as the pleasure seemed to hit every single nerve in my body.

When I finally came down, he pulled me back onto his lap. I hadn't realized he had grabbed another stool and was sitting down. My bare ass sat on top of his uncovered knee, and we both tried to catch our breath. His hand absentmindedly traced a line against my leg.

"Can I give Wendy my points?" I asked after a while, causing him to let out a laugh.

"Yeah," he said, still chuckling, as if what I was saying amused him.

We both sat there together—neither of us in a hurry to get up or get dressed. I listened to the sound of his breathing and stared off into space, thinking about what I had just agreed to.

Part of me felt like I had sold my soul.

 _I was his now._

I didn't know if being a wife was going to make me feel trapped again. If I had just made a deal with the devil, I might as well be signing a lease to live with him in hell. But maybe I didn't mind a little heat.

As Negan's mouth found mine again and he pulled me close to him, I smiled against his lips.

 _What a lovely way to burn…_


End file.
